A Matter of Interest
by Ductile
Summary: Party-crashers in Gotham City are old news, sir. But you may find this account a matter of interest...


**A Matter of Interest**

A Doctor Who/Batman crossover fic

by _Ductile_

803 words

**Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Dr. Who or Batman.**

It was an unfortunate incident, Commissioner Gordon decided regretfully, that caused an elderly man to be caught in the crossfire between Gotham's worst villain and staunchest protector. It was the worst of luck, and a sad turn of events, and rather to be expected when Joker crashed Gotham's biggest party of the year.

The maniacal clown had been creating general havoc among the affluent big-wigs, with a surprisingly small amount of bloodshed; the Batman had appeared from nowhere – his usual trick – to start taking out the Joker's minions, and the violence had escalated.

The fight had been going fairly well (the police commissioner had gotten in on the action, also) when Joker had pointed his gun at a seemingly random woman and shot her. Or, intended to. At the last moment, the woman was pushed aside by an old man – a butler or chauffer, or some such hired help for the occasion. The Joker barely noticed that he had not hit his intended target, but certainly noticed when the Batman slammed him upside the head with unexpected vigor…and an armored gauntlet. The Joker's minions were quickly routed or subdued, and the Joker himself was dragged completely insensate and handcuffed into custody.

The Batman disappeared, and the unknown wounded man with him.

**l****l****l**** ****l**** ****l**** l**

The Bat Cave was dark, dank, and dismal, rather in the fashion of caves everywhere. It had nothing to do with the air of grief and pain that hung heavy in the air.

A significant portion of the cave system was converted into laboratories, a mechanic's shop, a research facility, and an infirmary. Within the brightly lighted room of the infirmary, a lone hospital bed held the frail body of the lone occupant.

Alfred had insisted that he be taken to the Bat Cave. The Batman had ignored him, and taken him halfway to the nearest E.R. before the very pointed, very serious words of the old man had sunk in. The threats and emotional blackmail from the man who had raised him from childhood did their trick, and the gunshot victim was carried as swiftly as possible to the hospital bed in the cave system under Wayne Manor.

It was not a comfortable bed, but the gunshot wound to the gut did much to distract from that fact. The Batman, who quickly reverted to being Bruce, had bandaged the wound as quickly as possible, but both men had been aware from the first what such damage meant. Alfred was old, and stubborn – he would remain alive and sensate only for as long as it took for his last wishes to be acceded to.

As if on cue, Bruce hurried into the infirmary, a small object clutched in his hand. Alfred sucked in a wet breath, coughed out an even wetter breath, and made a movement to reach for the object. Bruce laid it carefully into the weak hand. Shaking fingers tried twice to open the tiny latch before the younger man reached in and undid it for him.

The object fell open; a golden mist began to rise from the ordinary, if more than a bit old-fashioned, fob watch. Bruce moved to cast the suspicious object from both, but the gold mist surged brighter and began wrapping around the frail old body on the uncomfortable hospital.

The suspicious mind of the Dark Detective began to whirl, fighting for dominance against the raging concern for his caretaker and father-figure. The paranoia rose, and Bruce stepped away from the golden tempest that centered around the occupied hospital bed.

The old man arched into a silent scream; his eyes glowed golden, and his arms spread in a helpless parody of the crucifixion. Bruce was forced to squint against the sudden surge of brightness, then the strange light display ceased so suddenly it seemed as if the room had gone completely dark.

When his eyes readjusted, Bruce took a halting step toward the bed. The body lying there was completely still, and the Dark Detective could only surmise the worst. Then the chest of the old man expanded in one breath, and then another, and then another, and then another. Bruce stepped closer, unable to believe what was evident before him.

The old man's body stirred; Bruce stiffened, and stepped up to the bed. Bright eyes opened, and regarded the younger man with a new awareness; it was no longer the kind, firm, and patient man who had raised him that stared from those eyes. No, this was someone new, someone different; even more, this was someone who set off every one of the Batman's carefully cultivated danger signals.

"Who are you," demanded the Batman's growling voice. The man's eyes widened briefly, then narrowed in consideration.

"I," he began haltingly, "Am…"

The End

_Author's Note: And there it ends! It could be the Master, it could be the Doctor, for all we know it could be the Meddling Monk or Borusa or even Romana or the Rani (as it has been emphasized that Time Lords can regenerate into either gender)! Imagine it any way you like: 'evil' Time Lord Alfred or 'good' Time Lord. They're all fun possibilities! I personally imagine it being the Rani, at which point my brain simply shuts down in self-defense. Poor Bruce; poor Joker; poor Jim Gordon; poor Gotham. The DC universe will never be the same again._


End file.
